


You Take My Breath Away

by JustGalsBeingPals



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Doctor Who References, Drunkenness, Emotional Crowley (Good Omens), Feelings, Fluff and Angst, Light Angst, Love Confessions, M/M, Mentioned God (Good Omens), Miscommunication, Mutual Pining, Oblivious Crowley (Good Omens), Snake Crowley (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-15
Updated: 2019-10-15
Packaged: 2020-12-16 21:38:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21043187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustGalsBeingPals/pseuds/JustGalsBeingPals
Summary: Crowley is a dramatic dumbass. Feelings happen.





	You Take My Breath Away

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Nano_Jay_Cali](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nano_Jay_Cali/gifts).

> This is my birthday gift for the amazing [Nano_Jay_Cali](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nano_Jay_Cali), who deserves this and more. Happy birthday darling!
> 
> Beta'ed by the wonderful [depressivesth](https://archiveofourown.org/users/depressivesth). Thank you dear, for putting up with me!
> 
> Check the end notes for content warning! 
> 
> Title comes from the Queen song, You Take My Breath Away. 
> 
> Enjoy ^^

A nightingale was singing when the first storm started. Nobody paid much attention to it, because Adam and Eve didn't know what kind of bird it was and were also otherwise occupied, while the other animals didn't much care, too busy trying to find a shelter. Neither did the two supernatural beings watching the garden from above, who had other matters to worry about. 

Either way, the nightingale sang for the first time that day. 

Crawly was curious. That had been his greatest sin, truth be told: he'd asked too many uncomfortable questions, or so he thought. 

His inability to leave well enough alone had led him to his Fall and, not much later, to becoming sort-of-friends with an Angel. 

His colleagues downstairs would have laughed their arses off, no doubt, but that was just one of the reasons why he didn't tell them about the latest aspect of his rather strange Eden adventure. 

The main motivation he only admitted in his own mind: he wanted to keep the fateful encounter to himself and couldn't help being extremely curious about his new acquaintance. 

Curiosity, again. 

_ I'm probably going to regret this, _ he thought to himself, as he watched humanity grow. 

Falling had been painful, even though he didn't like to admit it. It had been a physical fall, of course, but the pain came all from the void in his heart, the void where She used to be and that nothing could ever fill again. 

There was a visible scar on his chest, right where his human body hid his heart, that was engendered when She took Her love from him. It hurt, quite literally, like Hell, at the beginning and it made itself well known on stormy days even after centuries. 

When Aziraphale was close, though, the pain didn't as much disappear as it was overridden by the warmth the Angel kept spreading all around him. At first Crowley thought it was his Divine Grace, but later on, after meeting the Archangel Michael on a memorable occasion, he realized that it was simply Aziraphale's essence, his very core that felt like balm on his wounds. 

Crowley soon became addicted to it. 

Humans often say that a lifetime isn't enough to get to know someone perfectly. Crowley could drink to that. 

It didn't take him much to get to know Aziraphale pretty well, but with every new encounter he was met with a new detail that perhaps he hadn't noticed before, or that the Angel hadn't fancied him to know about until a certain moment. 

It took him 6000 years to realize that Aziraphale loved him back. 

***

"So did you or did you not invent Fidget Spinners, Crowley?" 

Aziraphale was sitting on a soft armchair, sipping wine with a still half-full chocolate box in front of him, truly the picture of comfort. Crowley was on the opposite side of the coffee table they had bought together, his feet propped up on it and his arse firmly seated on the other armchair, an arm over the armrest, the other busy flailing around his own glass of wine. 

"I can neither confirm nor deny your accusations, Angel." 

"So you did! I got almost discorporated by one of those things, did you know?" 

That made his still moving arm freeze. He took off his sunglasses to reveal his serpentine eyes, fully focused on Aziraphale. 

"No, I did not know that. How did you even manage to come close to one of those things anyway?" 

"They're everywhere! And a child in the bookshop was using it and it flew around and it would have taken out my eye if I hadn't realized I was a target!" He put a chocolate in his mouth, as if to strengthen his point. 

"Aw poor baby, don't you worry your pretty head Angel, they'll be out of style soon enough." 

Aziraphale rolled his eyes and miracled a pint of vanilla ice cream to put on his chocolate. 

They had been talking and drinking for hours, as it was one of their favourite pastimes. They were feeling just enough of a buzz to be in that stage right before full-on drunkenness, just tipsy enough to mistake foolishness for bravery. 

A drop of vanilla ice-cream fell on Aziraphale's hand and, instead of doing the sensible thing and passing him a tissue or a handkerchief, Crowley took his hand and just _licked_ it clean. 

"What in the name of our Lord are you doing, my dear?" 

Time froze. Not literally because that would have required making a certain kind of effort and Crowley was a little too preoccupied for that. However, it  _ felt _ like time had stopped, just to mock him and his stupidity. 

Crowley looked up, slowly, afraid to be met with revulsion, but he only saw confusion in his companion's eyes. 

He didn't want to answer, so in his panic he turned into a snake and tried to slither away. 

"Wait, Crowley, don't leave! We-we haven't finished the chocolate yet!" Aziraphale was holding his arms out as if to catch him, but he didn't dare touch him. So he _was_ disgusted after all. 

_ You can damn well finish them on your own and let me sulk in my own idiocy,  _ he didn't say because he was still a snake and was quickly getting out through the front door. He turned back to his human body to open the door on the driver side of his beloved Bentley and get the  _ Hell _ away from the Bookshop, Aziraphale only a white smudged figure at the door. 

Crowley was  _ resting  _ (read: sulking under the covers), no music on because he didn't want his favourite human artists to know how much of a failure he was. And also because all his favourite CDs were in his Bentley and he really didn't feel like getting up to take them, momentarily forgetting that he could just miracle them in his room. 

"I  _ knew  _ I was going to regret this. I called it!" he mumbled in his pillow. 

He just  _ had  _ to fuck up the only good part of his life, didn't he? 

Well, that wasn't exactly true: he had his Bentley and his music and booze. His life was full of good things. 

But Aziraphale was different: first of all he wasn't a  _ thing  _ and, most importantly, he wasn't just  _ good.  _ He was the best. And he was never going to talk to Crowley again, after what he had done. 

How could he ruin something so perfect like their friendship for such a stupid mistake? 

He was torn between drinking his memory away and never touching a drop of alcohol ever again. 

Maybe he should have just drunk Holy Water instead of booze. That would have surely prevented any future mistakes. 

"Crowley, dear, are you here?" a very well known voice came from the hallway, making him groan in his pillow. 

"Oh, there you are. I was so terribly worried. What has gotten into you, to leave like this? You didn't even finish your drink!" his voice sounded much closer, like he was in the same room. Slightly turning his head, Crowley could verify that his Angel was, in fact, in his bedroom. 

_ Ugh.  _

"Oh dear, you don't seem well. Have you perhaps gotten sick?" he could hear the worry in his voice. Crowley felt like the worst being to ever be created. 

"How could I get sick, Angel, I'm a demon" he muttered just loud enough to be heard. 

"Well, let me make some tea. I also brought a peace offering. " That made him look up: Aziraphale was, indeed, holding a small vase of red Anthurium, a hint of a smile on his face. 

"Oh Angel, you shouldn't have…" 

"I knew you liked plants so I thought that maybe this could make you feel better… Or I can just bring it back if you don't like it." He was starting to fidget. How could he be so insecure when Crowley was the one who had completely fucked up? 

"I like it, I swear. You can put it on the desk." He didn't want his new plant to be close to the others, lest they found out he intended to give it special treatment. It was a gift from Aziraphale, after all. 

He reluctantly got up to see how the new addition mingled with its surroundings. It looked wonderful near his opulent throne. 

He went to his kitchen to find the kettle already on the stove and Aziraphale fiddling with a spoon. 

"Angel?" 

"Oh dear, I'm so sorry. I don't know what made you leave the Bookshop yesterday, but if it was something I said, I promise I'm-" 

_ What?  _

"Wait, you think I'm mad at you?" his face was a mirror for his feelings of confusion. 

"Why else would you leave so suddenly? I'm really sorry Crowley, I had no intention of hurting you in any way. I don't know what I did but I am here to apologize." He looked so contrite Crowley wanted to fall on his knees and pray for forgiveness. How could he bring so much pain to the purest bastard he knew? 

"This is wrong on so many levels I cannot even begin to explain. Angel, you don't need to apologize for anything.  _ I  _ fucked up. It's on me," he said, pointing to himself, coincidentally right where his scar was beneath the cloth of his nightgown. 

Aziraphale looked at him with a strange emotion in his eyes. 

"Is this because of the ice-cream? If you wanted it so bad you could have said so," the Angel said, smirking. 

Crowley found himself with a tentative smile forming on his lips without his consent. 

"So you're not… mad?" he asked shyly. 

"Of course I'm not mad! I was rather confused, but not angry at all. Besides…" His cheeks reddened and he looked down. Crowley subconsciously leaned in. 

"Besides?" 

Aziraphale didn't get to continue, though, because the kettle started whistling and he became occupied with pouring the tea in the mugs. 

Crowley had bought them online while drunk a few months before. The one destined to him looked like a police box from the '60s, with "it's bigger on the inside!" written in it, just below the rim. The one Aziraphale used whenever he was at Crowley's had Einstein's most famous picture printed on it. 

Privately, Crowley was quite fond of them. 

The sweetness and warmth of the tea seemed to calm both their nerves. 

He sauntered towards the sofa without a word, immediately followed by Aziraphale who sat at a certain distance. 

"My dear, you said that I don't need to apologize, but you don't have all the facts." The Angel was looking at his tea as if it was the most interesting subject in the world. 

"Which are?" 

"Well, after our trials, we don't really have our old sides ready to jump on our necks, do we?" 

Crowley couldn't understand where his companion was getting at. Perhaps… Perhaps he wanted to end their friendship, since their Arrangement wasn't needed anymore? 

"Seeing that now we are more free to follow our own  _ desires _ I was-" 

He felt panic rising in his throat and couldn't hold back anymore. 

"I love you." 

Instantly he wished God would strike him dead. Why,  _ why  _ was he so much of an idiot? Why did he keep losing control around his beloved lately? 

Why did he have to Fall in the first place, since that would make loving him that much more impossible? 

Although, he'd had way of noticing that, while certainly  _ pure  _ in a way no other Angel was, Aziraphale was so distant from the conventional idea of Angel he might as well have been a whole new kind of being. He was so attached to human things, so hedonistic in his behaviours and passions, that Crowley couldn't help but think his light burned brighter than that of the other celestial beings. He was so passionate about everything he loved, so excited about tartan and food and books and at the same time so kind and compassionate that he'd made friends with the Least of the Less, with a Demon who couldn't even do his job right. 

And Crowley just couldn't seem to stop trying to fuck up everything they had. 

"I know." 

Crowley choked on his tea. 

_ What the fuck?  _

"Did you just- what, why… How?" 

"I can sense Love, my dear. It's part of the job." 

_ Of fucking course. He probably knew from the Beginning.  _

Crowley was sure he was about to combust. 

"But… Why didn't you say anything? You know I- I wouldn't- well, I would respect your wishes, you wouldn't need to put up with me anymore if you so desired."  _ Dumbass can you stop digging your own grave or what?  _

Aziraphale, however, looked appalled at the prospect. 

"Why would I ever wish for you to leave? Wait, do  _ you  _ want to stay away from me?" 

"How did that turn on me so fast? No, of course I don't, you bloody idiot Angel." 

"Then I guess that settles it." 

And yes, it did settle it. Aziraphale wanted things to stay the way they were, apparently. Which was just fine for Crowley. He had been afraid of losing him completely and that hadn't happened so he should have been happy and relieved, right? 

Then why was he so heartbroken? 

They were finishing their tea in a slightly-less-than-comfortable silence. Crowley didn't feel like turning on the TV. What he felt like was screaming at his plants to sort out his frustration and then maybe sleep for a century or two, but then who would take care of his unruly greenery? Who would praise the Anthurium for growing so well, even though he'd had it for less than an hour? 

Who would dine at the Ritz with Aziraphale and stop him from killing humanity with his terrible magic tricks? 

While he was wallowing on his empty mug, a nightingale landed on the windowsill and started singing. It was muted by the closed window and the much louder and much more unpleasant noise of traffic, but Crowley could hear it very clearly. 

So could Aziraphale, because he was the first one to comment on it. 

"Oh, look darling, a nightingale! Isn't it a wonderful creature?" 

"Indeed, it is." Crowley wasn't looking at the bird though. 

"I'm quite fond of its song, I must say. Are you?" 

"Very." 

The bird looked straight at them and flew away right after. The Demon wasn't used to having birds glare at him, but they might as well. They wouldn't have been the first nor the last. 

"You know, I never actually finished what I meant to say earlier." 

And Crowley went right back to wanting to drink Holy Water. 

He took the empty cups and got up hastily. 

"I get it, Angel, you want to keep things as they've always been. That's alright, but  _ please,  _ you must give me some time. It's not like I can easily cancel 6000 years of  _ feelings  _ and I'd rather have some dignity left by the time this is over." His voice cracked in the middle, which was the least humiliating thing that had happened to him in the past two days alone. 

"Crowley, will you just let me explain?" 

"I don't need to hear the whole  _ it's not you it's me  _ shebang, champ." 

"Well if you stopped being a _bloody_ drama queen for half a minute you would realize that you've missed the point by five hundred miles!" Aziraphale's cheeks had reddened in an adorably beautiful way, which made his eyes look even bluer by contrast. How ironic that Crowley had never wanted to kiss him more than in that moment. 

He remained silent. 

"So, if you're finished jumping to dreadful conclusions, I believe it's my turn to confess. As I was saying, I wanted to apologize for not expressing my feelings sooner." 

_ Feelings?  _

"Before the Almost-geddon I was so scared, I didn't want to lose you permanently so I thought that keeping a certain grade of… _Distance_ could keep us both safe." He took Crowley's hands with his own. The Demon felt his own breath catch. Did he even _need _to breathe? 

"Now that we have more freedom than we've ever had, though… I guess I was just too scared to see things change. After living a certain way for 6000 years, one becomes rather scared of changes, so I came here asking for your forgiveness for not coming clean about my love for you sooner." 

It took him a minute to register the words pronounced by his Angel. 

There was so much to unpack Crowley had to divide everything in sections and analyze piece by piece. 

His feelings for Aziraphale were mutual, which meant that Aziraphale loved him too. 

He had been scared of their superiors and of change but he wasn't anymore. 

Aziraphale loved him too. 

_ Aziraphale loved him too.  _

He heard a really loud crash but was too focused on Aziraphale to actually notice. He looked red in the face, his breathing a little heavier like after an exertion. 

Crowley took a step, then two, towards the Angel. He distantly registered a stinging sensation under his bare feet, but he was a man on a mission: he took Aziraphale's face in his hands and kissed him like he'd wanted to do for so long he'd thought  _ that  _ had been the real Divine Punishment, not the Fall or the void in his heart. 

They kissed and kissed and kissed and then kissed some more for good measure. 

After some time they pulled apart. He was feeling a little dizzy, but it was a small price to pay. 

"Oh dear! You're bleeding!" Aziraphale exclaimed, kneeling to inspect the damage. 

_ Uh?  _

Crowley was, indeed, bleeding from a cut under his right foot that had formed a small puddle on the floor. Maybe, he thought,  _ that  _ had been the reason for his dizziness, after all. 

Aziraphale miracled the two mugs back to mint condition and cured Crowley's cut with a touch of his thumb. 

"Darling, pay more attention to your surroundings, please. This time it was nothing but it could have been much worse!” The Angel scolded him, sternly, with a fond look in his eyes. 

"Whatever. Come back up here and kiss me again, will you?" 

Aziraphale smiled and did just that. 

And maybe, just  _ maybe,  _ the void the Almighty had left in his heart would stop hurting after all. 

**Author's Note:**

> CW: Crowley thinks about drinking Holy Water, which would effectively kill him. He doesn't even come close to doing it, but I thought it would be best to put a warning. It's not in the tags, but if you think I should put it there, please let me know in the comments. Stay safe! 
> 
> This is my first work for the Good Omens fandom, which has just recently become my obsession. Hope you all liked it!


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